


Birthday Encounters

by sendoffire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendoffire/pseuds/sendoffire
Summary: Sergey knew that it was Lance’s birthday today, however he sure as hell did not expect to spend the day with the birthday man himself!





	Birthday Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, I am planning to write other pairings too, but these two are just too cute!)
> 
> Happy 20th Birthday to Lance Stroll!

Waking up on Monday morning, Sergey once again realises just how blissful it is to wake up at on his own accord, and not because his alarm is blasting through the silence of his hotel room again. The Russian driver stretches his arm to reach the phone that lies on the night stand, unplug it from the charger and bring back to his face.

9.03 am.

He has his whole day ahead of him.

Most of the drivers and team staff left for home or factories on Sunday evening, however some, like Sergey, decided to stay in Mexico for a couple more days to further explore the city, without having to do any media obligations along with it.

Sergey unlocks his phone and spends a couple of minutes scrolling through messages, replying to some, and checking his social media for any updates. When he’s just about to lock the screen again and get out of bed, his eye catches a calendar notification that’s been sitting on the notification centre. Clicking on the icon, he opens the Calendar app and watches as the screen lights up with a pop-up text consisting of two words that make his heart do a triple jump in his chest.

‘Lance Birthday.’

How could he forget?! The last drops of sleep immediately leave his eyes and the Russian sits up in his bed, opening the Twitter app. Clicking the button to compose new tweet, the blonde asks himself: why is this so important to him? Him and Lance weren’t exactly ‘best friends’, hell, they were barely acquaintances! Lance had other people to talk to, and Sergey just liked to keep to himself, so other than in the garage, or on media meetings, they barely even spoke to each other.  
And yet, now the Russian is scrambling to compose a tweet to congratulate his teammate, adding some random photo of his car from the race.

His brain tries to convince him that it’s just his obligation as a teammate, that it’s good for publicity.  
The heart, however, knowingly keeps quiet.

When the tweet is done and sent, Sergey finally gets out of the bed and gets ready to start his final day in Mexico, before flying back to Moscow in the late evening, the strange tugging feeling in his chest long forgotten.

~~

The weather is nice: warm enough to still call it summery, but not boiling, and it doesn’t make you wish for an ice bath.

Sergey jogs down the stairs that lead to the front doors of the hotel and puts on his sunglasses to not end up blinded by the sun, shining brightly almost right above his head. He tries to remember some of the hidden gems that Checo was telling them about during the after-party, but sadly nothing pops up in his head. Signing, he’s just about to reach for his phone in the pocket of his shorts, when another figure emerges from the hotel building, and a familiar figure at that.

“What are you doing here?” Asks him a harsh, but still boyish voice with a deep Canadian accent.

The blonde raises his eyebrows as he looks at what must be a doppleganger of his amazingly straightforward teammate, because the Russian knew for a thing that Lance was supposed to be on a plane back to Canada to spend some time with his family.

“I could ask you the same question,” Sergey shots back, admittedly a bit harsher than he intended to. He was still in a bit of a shock from bumping into his teammate.

“Didn’t want to go home yet,” grumped Lance in return, furrowing his bushy eyebrows even more, to the point when Sergey couldn’t really see where one ended and another began. The Russian blinked awkwardly, looking at the noses of his sneakers , not knowing what to say next.  
“Saw your tweet, by the way,” his teammate said suddenly. The Blonde immediately shot his head up, meeting an awkward gaze of Lance’s brown eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” replied Sergey with a small smile, “It’s not everyday you turn twenty.”

The younger driver noticeably tensed at his words, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not a teen anymore, where’s the fun in that?”

Sergey just blinked, not knowing if the Canadian was joking or not.

“Thank God Kimi didn’t hear you say that,” muttered the Russian under his breath, before lifting his right arm to pat his teammate’s shoulder. “Twenty is a perfect age, if you ask me. A nice, round number, a start of a new chapter of your life. So what if it doesn’t have the ‘teen’ part in it? In Russia all ages between thirteen and twenty have the same ending, we do not differentiate between teen age and ‘adultery’, that doesn’t mean you are not a teen anymore when you turn thirteen, right?”

He didn’t know how this weird fact was supposed to lift Lance’s spirits up, he was pretty sure now the younger man just thought his teammate was even weirder than before.

However, his small ramble seemed to do its work. The adorable pout on Lance’s lips faltered, and was soon replaced with a small smile, that uncovered two dimples on his cheeks.

“I guess,” replied the brunette, looking at his teammate. “Thanks, Sergey, I think I needed a bit of weird Russian facts today.”

The other man smiled warmly.

“Good. Now, do you want to join me on a quest of finding a decent place to have breakfast in this city?”

The dimples on Lance’s cheeks grew larger.

“I’d love to.”

~~

Neither noticed how fast the day flew by. After having some traditional Mexican food in a small, quiet café on the corner from the track, both men went on to explore the city, occasionally popping in to a random shop or a museum, and before either of them knew it, it was time to head back to the hotel to finish packing and go to the airport.

“This day ended far better than it began,” declared Lance as he was walking next to Sergey along the street leading to their hotel. Neither man acknowledged the fact that they were so close to one another, their elbows bumped with every step they took.

“Well, I’m glad,” simply answered Sergey, finishing off the ice cream cone they bought a couple of minutes before. A small silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward, for what seemed like the first time in the year they’ve known each other.

“Thank you, for this birthday present,” murmured Lance, almost a whisper. The blonde slowed down his pace to look at the man next to him. The Canadian’s cheeks were tinted pink, and not the kind of pink a sunburn would leave after strolling the whole day under the sun without protection, and his chocolate eyes were looking at his feet, suddenly finding his Nikes very interesting.

Sergey was about to say something, although admittedly, he didn’t really know what, when Lance raised his head and nodded slightly to the building in front of them. With all this small talk, they didn’t notice that they’ve reached the hotel.

“I’ll go and pack, my flight leaves in a couple of hours,” announced Lance, and fully turned to Sergey, a sign of contemplation on his face.

The next thing Sergey knew, a pair of soft, plump lips was touching his left cheek in one swift motion, and was gone just as fast as they appeared.

“Have a safe flight home,” whispers a rough voice near his left ear, and in the next second Sergey is standing alone, looking at the figure disappearing behind the hotel doors.

Reaching his palm to touch his cheek, Sergey smiles. He was glad that Lance decided to stay in Mexico for his birthday, and not celebrate it with his family.

He was also glad that both their flights were leaving from the same airport – he definitely wanted a part two of this goodbye.


End file.
